


Steve and Bucky's Home for Broken Superheroes

by liionne



Series: Tumblr Prompts [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, M/M, Tumblr Prompt, adopting superheroes, damn heroes bursting through their window, modern and steve and bucky, not too in depth though, or they try to anyway, some mention od blood and gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2018-04-09 16:22:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4356035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liionne/pseuds/liionne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt? Modern Steve and Bucky adopt superheroes and vigilantes like stray cats - patch them up, feed them, offer them shelter for the night and don't blink when they're gone the next morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd, as per. Hope this is what the asker wanted!

Steve just wishes they would knock. He really, really wishes that they would knock, because their house is nice, and he’s kind of getting sick of people breaking the front window, or falling through the roof, or getting muddy footprints on the walls when they climb up into their bedroom.

There’s the sound of breaking glass from downstairs, and a muffled moan, and Steve sighs as he sits up. He looks over at Bucky, who’s sleeping so soundly, and sighs once more, just for good measure. 

“C’mon.” he says, shaking his husband gently. “We’ve got another one.”

Together, they heave themselves out of bed, and head downstairs. Steve throws on a shirt before he goes, and Bucky pulls on a pair of sweats, and together they move through the house, turning lights on as they go. They find it’s better that whoever’s waiting knows who they are before they get there; sneaking up on them is usually a bad idea.

When they get to the kitchen, they see a man on the floor, head and eyes covered by a red-purple mask, the barest hints of horns at his forehead. Steve and Bucky exchange a look.

“Daredevil, right?” Steve asks, voice soft as he crouches down.

“Right.” He agrees, shifting slightly. “I guess I’m in the right house?”

Bucky moves to grab the first aid kit, and some warm water. “Yeah, you are.” Steve says, setting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Bucky here’s a nurse, he’ll patch you up, and I’m gonna go set up a room for you.”

Daredevil shakes his head. “Honestly, no, I don’t need-”

“You look like shit.” Bucky says from behind him, setting the water and the kit on the table. “I can guarantee you’re gonna need a night’s rest, and this is a safehouse. You can stay without there being any trouble.”

The vigilante huffs, and Steve gives Bucky a gentle smile. “I’ll go set up the room.” 

He disappears out of sit, and Bucky helps him up onto one of the kitchen chairs. They used to have a wooden table, but it’s kind of hard to get blood out of solid wood, so now it’s just wood effect, easy enough to wipe down. “I’m gonna get you out of the costume, alright? We can give you clothes if you need ‘em, Steve’ll bring ‘em down.” Bucky explains, helping him first out of the mask, and then out of the costume. 

His body is littered with scratches and cuts, some superficial, some deep. Bucky grimaces to himself, and sets to work.

“You gonna tell us what you’ve been up to?” Bucky asks gently, as he begins to clean the wounds. 

His patient gives a sigh. “Nothing good. Keep trying to--  _shit_  --catch a mafia boss, but... He just keeps getting away...”

“At least you tried, right?” Bucky says. “The devil of hell’s kitchen is doing way more than anyone else is.”

“Please,” He says, face screwing up. “Just call me Matt.”

“Matt.” He nods, and gives a gentle smile.

“Everything’s set up.” Steve says, stepping back into the room. “Hopefully it’ll just be you out tonight, and you can have it to yourself. It’s the bed against the back wall, nearest to the window. I’ve left your clothes out on the bed.”

“Thank you.” He says, gratefully. “I-- You guys are pretty amazing.”

They look between themselves, and shrug. Steve sets a hand gently on his shoulder, the one shoulder that isn’t covered in bruises and lacerations. Bucky, meanwhile, continues to work. He gets a lot of his meds from Stark, rather than from the hospital; he wants to keep his job, after all, and after they all but saved Stark’s life six months ago, he’s been more than eager to help them both out. He injects a little local anaesthetic into the wound, and begins to sew it up, dark grey eyes focused on his work.

“We’re just trying to do good.” Steve answers. “You guys run around saving lives all day, but there’s no one there to save yours.”

“We like to be those people.” Bucky agrees, looking up at Steve.

They share a smile, and then Steve steps away. “Do you want anything?” He asks. “Something to eat, something to drink? We’re pretty much stocked up; we just went and did the grocery shopping this morning.”

Matt shakes his head, which lolls forward as Bucky shifts to work on his back, deft fingers sewing up and cleaning out anything that needs doing. Steve has always kind of loved that about him, the focus, the care he takes. He smiles a little to himself, and looks over as Matt says, “No, thanks. Just—just water. Water is enough.”

Steve gives a gentle smile, and turns around to grab him a glass. He sets it out in front of him, and watches as Matt takes a tentative sip. It takes another ten minutes, but eventually, Bucky pulls away, and pats his shoulder gently. “You’re all patched up. If you head upstairs, it’s the door straight in front of you.”

Matt pulls himself up with a grimace, and Steve watches him carefully. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s had to carry a superhero up the stairs and into their bed. He’s got a pretty big list of those.

They don’t follow him, don’t crowd him, but they do listen for any signs of struggle. Fortunately, there are none. The door clicks shut, and then, there is silence.

Bucky begins to pack away his first aid kit, studying the thing he needs more of. Steve, meanwhile, moves behind him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Bucky turns his head slightly and smiles, leaning against him. “Maybe one of these nights we’ll get some decent sleep.” He says.

“You wouldn’t do it if you didn’t want to.” Steve says, eyebrows arching, to which Bucky gives a rueful smile.

“True.” He agrees.

When everything is cleared away, and they’re sure Matt is asleep, they head to bed themselves. They wake a few hours later, sunlight streaming in through the curtains, Bucky’s face pressed into Steve’s neck. They groan, wriggle a little against each other, and then get up to check on their newest houseguest.

He’s already gone, sheets perfectly folded, clothes gone too. Never mind. They usually find their way back to them somehow. When Steve goes downstairs, there’s a note taped to the broken window with a number – Matt tells them to call him for the damages.

They don’t, of course. Steve fixes the window himself whilst Bucky is at work, and at night, they collapse into bed together. They sleep pretty solidly, actually, making it until the sun is peeking up over the window, when there’s a shatter from downstairs.

“My window.” Steve groans, burying his face in the pillow before kicking Bucky awake, and heading downstairs.


	2. And the Anti-Heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Prompt? Unwilling to turn away injured, confused or brainwashed villains and anti-heroes, Steve and Bucky discreetly send them to (modern or MCU) Natasha and Sam who provide a safehouse and resources for recovering individuals with red in their ledger. Heroes & anti-heroes unknowingly coexisting within two houses of each other #ModernCapFamily #SafestNeighborhoodAround #CapFamilyAreTrolls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same warnings apply as in the first fic - unbeta'd, some mention of blood and minor wounds.

Bucky is the first one down, this time, and he stops in the kitchen doorway, looking at their newest resident, and then back to Steve, who bumped into his back when he stopped dead. He gave one look to the woman on the floor, and then turned half around to Steve, his voice low.

“Call Natasha.” He murmurs, and Steve, casting on glance into the kitchen from over Bucky’s shoulder, gives a nod as he disappears into the living room.

He steps into the kitchen, and sets a gentle hand on her arm. “Hey,” He says, voice gentle. She looks up with wild eyes, but she gives a small nod, telling him to continue. “It’s alright. You aren’t safe here, but we’re gonna patch you up real quick, and get you somewhere safe.”

“Where?” She asks, dark eyes latching onto his.

“Two doors down.” He says. “Not too far away from here, but far enough from anyone who might want to hurt you. We have two friends that are more than happy to help.”

She nods jerkily, and he helps her to her feet, settling her in one of the kitchen chairs. There’s a shard of glass poking out of her arm from breaking the window (or being thrown through, who knows), and so first of all, he sets about getting that out, as Steve reappears.

“Natasha’s coming, ETA 2 minutes. Sam’s setting up a room for her now.” He says, looking at her and giving her a gentle smile.

Their house is not one for her kind. Anti-heroes and the occasional villain can’t stay here, because it’s just not ethical. They promise the superheroes and vigilantes that come here that it’s a safe haven from the outside world, a place where their villains and enemies cannot find them. If they start taking in villains, they can’t say that anymore, and lord only knows what would happen to the people out there.

However, they can’t just turn them away. That’s even worse. Leaving them out on the street, cold and bleeding, that’s not right. When Eddie Brock had first tumbled through their doors, nose needing set and covered in cuts and bruises, they knew they couldn’t just kick him out. They couldn’t do it. So Steve had called his friend Sam, two doors up. Sam said he would take him, of course, but they could only ever offer a place to stay; Natasha works in business, and Sam a therapist – a doctor, but not _that_ kind of doctor. So Bucky patches them up, and then Steve transports him along the back alley to Sam and Natasha’s place.

Bucky pulls out the shard of glass, and sews up the wound, washing out any cuts and bruises. There’s a gentle tap at the door, and Steve goes to let Natasha in, still in a pair of pyjama shorts and a vest shirt, but looking more alert than any of the rest of them. She smiles as she steps into the kitchen.

“Elektra, right?” She asks. Natasha knows everything and everyone, without ever telling Bucky or Steve however the hell she does it. They share a little look, Steve and Bucky glancing over at each other, and then Bucky goes back to his work.

“I’m Natasha,” She continues, standing by Steve’s side. “You’re going to be staying with me and my fiancé for the night. We can get you food, water, spare clothes. And you can stay for as long as you need.”

Elektra opens her mouth, as if to say something, and then she shuts it again, choosing only to smile instead. Bucky sets down his equipment, fingers bloody, and gives a gentle smile. “All done. You can go now, if you like.”

Elektra looks between Steve and Bucky, and then Steve holds his hand out to her. She gives a gentle smile, and allows him to pull her up. Natasha leads the way along the back alley as they follow, and Bucky stays behind to clear up.

“I knew I would be coming here, you know.” She says, her voice soft, accent lilting. “I saw it in a vision.”

Steve smiles gently. “What did you see?” He asks. “If you don’t mind me asking?”

“I saw you. You and your husband.” She says. “I did not know what you would say, or what you would do, but… it gave me a good feeling.”

Steve likes the sound of that. He nods, and gives her arm a gentle squeeze as he helps her through Natasha and Sam’s tiny back yard, and into their home. Sam is waiting in the doorway, watching, holding a blanket. Natasha gives him a gentle smile as she passes.

“I’m glad.” Steve says. “We’re all more than happy to help.”

Steve hands her over to Natasha, who helps her up the stairs, and to her room. “Thank you,” She says over her shoulder, a soft smile on her lips, and Steve gives her a nod.

“We’ll look after her.” Sam promises, giving Steve that reassuring therapist look that he so often does.

Steve gives him a gentle smile. “Thanks. Really, thank you. You don’t have to do this.”

Sam looks to the ceiling, where they can hear the voices of Natasha and Elektra as they drift down from the room above. He shrugs his shoulders, and looks to Steve. “We kinda do.”

With another smile from Steve, and Natasha appearing at the kitchen doorways, he pats Sam on the shoulder. “I’ll let you get back to bed. See you tomorrow.”

“See you, Steve.” Sam responds, and Natasha gives a soft nod, reaching for Sam’s hand as she leads him upstairs. Steve, meanwhile, slips through the back alley to his own home, where Bucky waits, wrapping his arms around his neck when the kitchen door is closed and Steve is inside. They lean against each other, taking in each other’s warmth, but unlike the night before, they exchange no words. They simply head up to bed, a silent agreement, and collapse in a tangle of limbs as they let sleep claim them once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And as usual, prompts, comments and questions can be sent to [my tumblr](http://achaiion.tumblr.com)


	3. Origins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Shit." Steve murmurs, and Bucky steps forward to see what he's looking at.
> 
> There's a kid on their floor. A teenager - he must still be in school, Bucky thinks, because he looks so damn small. Except that he's wearing a costume - one that Bucky remembers from the news.
> 
> "Is Spider-Man in our living room?"

Bucky looks at the stairs, and finds himself grinning. Stairs, see. Stairs, that connect the upstairs and downstairs of their home. Because he and Steve have a _home_  now.

When he'd met Steve on his first day of college, he had assumed that a guy like him would never look twice at Bucky. He was six feet and blonde and blue eyed, all lean and solid looking and Bucky... Bucky had been on the tail end of an emo phase and not even really sure how he felt about boys or girls or _whatever_.

He'd gone on his first date with Steve in sophomore year, after a year of friendship and a ridiculous amount of pining. When they had flopped down into the same bed that night, not even _doing_  anything, just kissing and laughing and talking in hushed voices, Bucky had decided there and then that he was going to marry Steve Rogers it was the last thing he did.

And now, about five or so years later, he's married to his best guy and moving into his first house. He had proposed in the front room of the house they're now standing in, when they had went to view it for the first time. Steve had swore, called him an idiot, but he had accepted, hadn't he?

"What're you doing?" Steve asks as he pushes in through the front door, boxes in his arms. "Other than being unhelpful?"

"I'm just--" Bucky shakes himself out of his stupor, and looks at Steve. "We have a house."

"We do, indeed, have a house." Steve agrees. He sets the boxes down in the doorway and sets his hands on Bucky's hips, leaning forward to kiss him softly. "A house that isn't furnished. And won't be, until we help the movers get everything out of the back of the van."

"Yeah, yeah," Bucky laughs, but neither one of them moves away. Bucky kisses him once more, and then peels himself away as one of the aforementioned movers pokes his head through the front door, asking about the couch.

It takes them the whole afternoon to unpack the truck, thank and tip the movers, and then start on the boxes. Neither one of them is tired - in fact, Bucky can see Steve practically vibrating under his own goddamn skin, and it makes him smile every time. They have a _house_ now. Bucky gets why he's so excited.

And the novelty doesn't wear off. It takes them a while to get the place properly unpacked and set up; between Bucky being needed at the hospital just a few blocks away and Steve having to stop to work, it takes them just a little bit longer than they had expected. But they manage it; the place looks great, feels like home, and most importantly, it's _theirs_.

Steve hangs the photo Natasha took of them at graduation on the wall of his office, and Bucky grins. That was it; that's the last thing that needed to be taken out of a box, the last thing that needed to go up.

"We're now _officially_ moved in." Steve says, giving a nod of his head as he steps back to make sure the photo is hanging straight.

Bucky steps forward, slips his arms around him from behind and leans his chin on Steve's shoulder. "You know what that means, right?"

"That I can start recycling the boxes?" Steve asks, and Bucky has to wonder if he's being serious.

"Well, true." He says, his voice a little lighter before he lowers it, speaking in low tones. "But personally, I was thinking more about the fact that we need to christen every room. Top and bottom."

" _Oh_ ," Steve says, and Bucky feels the air leave him in one deep breath. _Yeah_. That's more the reaction he wanted.

"Wanna start right here?" Bucky asks, kissing the crook of Steve's neck, tugging on his earlobe with his teeth.

Steve takes another deep breath, and then turns around so that he can face Bucky, kissing him hard and hungrily. "God," He moans against Bucky's lips. "I hope the _Arkelstorp_ is as strong as IKEA claim it is."

Bucky laughs, a little breathless, pressing Steve backwards onto the desk.

~*~

It's a systematic process, and it begins downstairs. Steve's office, the living room, the kitchen. The hallway, but that one's an accident, they had just been a little drunk from Sam's birthday party and hadn't been able to make it up stairs - or anywhere else, for that matter.

They christened the shower the day before, but Bucky says that isn't enough, see - they have a counter there, too. The shower has glass around it, it's like a little room within a room, he claims. Steve doesn't seem to want to argue with that kind of logic.

Which is how Bucky ends up leaning back against the mirror, the glass cool against his bare back, his legs over Steve's shoulders as Steve works three fingers into him.

"Fuck, Steve, c'mon," He whines, because Steve always takes too long, he always _teases_ , despite what he claims--

"What, you got places to be?" Steve asks him, kissing the inside of Bucky's knee and making absolutely no effort to move on with the proceedings. Bucky groans as Steve fucks him slowly open, frustrated and turned on all a the same time. "I'm not rushing anything, here."

It takes what feels like an era for Bucky to convince Steve that he's good, totally fine, lets get the ball rolling here, but in reality it's about five minutes. Bucky moans, mourning the loss of Steve's fingers inside of him as his husband lines himself up, pushing into him slowly. Bucky knocks his head back, exposing the line of his throat as he feels Steve filling him up, hears him groan - he _loves_  hearing Steve make noses in bed. Or on the bathroom counter - whatever.

When he bottoms out, Steve beckons Bucky forward so that he can kiss him, breathless and needy and _so_ good. Bucky curls his hand around the back of Steve's neck, clinging to him as Steve fucks him deep and slow and good, the heat pooling in Bucky's stomach and building, slow but surely.

He's close - he knows that he's close, can feel the tingling from the inside out, and he's babbling to Steve when there's the sound of glass shattering from downstairs, and a dull, heavy thud. They both look to the bathroom door, panting hard in the quiet.

Bucky wants to ignore it. Oh, god, he wants to ignore it, but he knows that he can't. The sudden shock and the thought that they could currently be getting robbed by the World's Noisiest Burglar has killed the mood, and his erection along with it. Steve pulls away from him, pulling a pair of underwear and his sweats on as quickly as he can manage. "Stay here." He murmurs to Bucky. "I'll go see what's going on."

 _Fuck that_ , Bucky thinks. Steve has been gone two seconds before Bucky hops down from the counter, legs kind of wobbly, and gets dressed just as Steve had. He follows him downstairs, thinking too hard about the fact that he's barefoot, and stops just behind Steve, who's loitering the doorway.

"Shit." Steve murmurs, and Bucky steps forward to see what he's looking at.

There's a kid on their floor. A teenager - he must still be in school, Bucky thinks, because he looks so damn small. Except that he's wearing a costume - one that Bucky remembers from the news.

"Is Spider-Man in our living room?" Bucky asks Steve softly.

Steve gives a solemn nod. "And he broke the window." He adds.

"We still have that first aid kit?" Bucky asks. He spends his entire day as an ER nurse, and he never thought he'd bring his work home with him, but he _really_  doesn't want that kid bleeding out on his floor.

Steve moves further into the room as Bucky fetches the kit from under the sink. He hears a clatter, and scuffling, and then Steve's voice - "Hey, hey, it's okay. You're alright, okay? You're safe."

Bucky reappears in the doorway, backlit by the kitchen light. The kid - Spider-Man, he keeps telling himself, except there's no way he's a _man_ , quite frankly - has scooted himself against the wall, mask off and held tightly in his hand, breathing heavy as he looks at Steve with panic in his eyes.

Bucky holds his hands up, one containing the first aid kit. "It's okay, kid." He says softly, moving into the room. "Are you hurt?"

"We just want to help." Steve adds.

"I - I broke your window." Spider-Man says, and Steve and Bucky turn to look at it in unison.

"Sure did." Bucky murmurs, just as Steve says, "I wasn't that attached to it anyway."

Bucky snickers softly, and Spider-Man looks between them, bewildered. He seems to soften a little, and so Bucky repeats, "Are you hurt?"

The hero swallows thickly. "My - my arms, mostly." He says, showing off the torn suit and the lacerations along his arms.

Bucky steps forward slowly, around Steve. "Can I patch you up?" He asks next. Spider-Man looks between the two of them.

"I broke your window." He repeats, voice small. Bucky and Steve have both seen him on the news before, out fighting crime and saving lives and he's... he's just a kid. A boy. "You aren't mad?"

"No." They murmur in unison, and Bucky smiles softly. "Like he said, kid, we just wanna help."

"Peter." The teenager says after a moment. He looks conflicted about it, but he nods. "My name is Peter."

"Peter." Steve nods, as Bucky starts to disinfect the wounds on his arms. "Are you hungry? Or thirsty? You can stay the night here, if you have nowhere to go--"

Between the two of them they get Peter cleaned up, fed and watered - he said he'd been trying to stop a bank robbery, y'know, nothing too serious (Bucky had raised his eyebrows at that, because a bank robbery? Not too serious?), and he'd managed to get the guys but the cops... well, the cops weren't exactly his best friend. Smashing through Steve and Bucky's window was an accident, he said, but he was kind of glad that it had happened.

Steve made up the bed in the guest room, and found some clothes that he was meant to take down to the charity store for him to change into. Once fed and watered, Peter thanked them once more, and went up to bed.

Now it's just Steve and Bucky, in the living room; Bucky is taping a cover over the gaping hole in the window whilst Steve cleans up the glass, and when he's done, Bucky stops to look at him.

"We never finished christening the bathroom." He says, dejected. He's too tired now, too aware of the teenager asleep in their guest bedroom.

"There's always tomorrow." Steve murmurs, only stopping once he's sure he's gotten every single shard of broken glass. He pulls Bucky close and kisses him gently. "Right?"

"Right." Bucky agrees, stealing one more kiss before he takes Steve's hand. "Bed?"

Steve only nods, letting Bucky lead him back up to the bedroom.

~*~

In the morning, Peter is gone, but there's a note on the bedside table.

> _Don't have any money on me - suit has no pockets - but I'll pay you guys for the window. Thanks again!_

> _\- your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man_

Steve snickers, handing it to Bucky, who smiles. "I'm gonna keep it."

~*~

"Fuck, Steve, like that - right there, oh god--"

Take two of christening the bathroom is going _exceedingly_ well, Bucky thinks, as he clings to Steve and scrapes his nails along his back.

"Fuck, Steve, I'm - oh god--"

There's a dull thud, this time from the roof, and then a muttered curse along the hall. They both stop, and Steve pulls away, reaching for his clothes.

"God _damn_  it." Bucky mutters, tugging on his underwear and cursing whoever's just fallen through their roof.

"Captain?" Steve asks the blonde-haired woman on the floor; the suit gives her away, too. Captain Marvel sits up, and looks at the hole in the ceiling.

"I'll fix that." She assures them, and then promptly passes out.

"I'll get the first aid kit." Bucky grumbles, trudging downstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't actually know I was going to write any more of this until I was sitting down and writing it. Hope you all enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts, questions and comments are welcome at [my tumblr](http://achaiion.tumblr.com)


End file.
